Chapter Text
The bass thumps so hard it makes Felix’s chest shake. The atmosphere is hot and heavy as drunken breaths cloud the corners of the dark hall. One of his friends claps him on the back and he jumps at the sudden contact though his senses are dull from one too many schooners. His friend presses close to him, drunkenly leaning his entire weight onto him, and shouts in his ear over the loud music.
“Is it your round?” His pupils are blown wide.
Felix rolls his eyes. He was sure it wasn’t his turn to buy for the boys.
“Go ask Jayden, he’s fuckin’ moochin’ again,” Felix replies brazenly. His friend, Eric, huffs defeatedly and slinks off into the crowd, bony shoulders bumping against people as he passes through. His mother would kill him if she found out he was on molly and drinking. It had taken them ages to convince Ms Lieu to let him come out to bars with the rest of the boys without his midnight curfew. As long as no one dogs him, he should be right.
Felix shakes the thought from his head. He came to watch the stage tonight, not get fucked up with his friends and chase down girls. The stage lights flash white and purple as a skinny white guy finishes up spitting lines from beneath his snapback. He was decent, fiery for his size. Felix could remember seeing how sharp his jaw became when he clenched it and how his knuckles were white around the mic.
At the gap in the performances, Felix took a moment to resurface from the heady throng of people to grab a glass of water from the bar. He flags down Eric and shoves a glass of water into his hand to keep him hydrated too. Eric’s an idiot and downs it like it’s a flat vodka soda. The stage lights flash again and Felix skulls the rest of his. He finds a comfortable spot against the back wall beside Jayden, who is busy chatting up some girl. She seems pretty drunk, eyes half closed with a permanent dopey smile on her face as Jayden tries to woo her by talking about his SoundCloud.
Felix sniffles a little as the stench of stale alcohol hits his nose once more. The venue is shit to say the least. Half of it is carpeted – stupidly – and the walls are dented to high heaven and slathered in black and crimson paint. The floor feels like hundred-year-old chipboard and the pillars that hold up the roof look half eaten by time. The stage at the front is a collection of wooden blocks painted black with speakers mounted to the back, DJ table shoved to the side for the night. A passer-by would wonder why hundreds of people crammed themselves into this shithole.
It was for the $5 beers and cheap diluted cocktails.
Felix vaguely registers a new performer walking across the short length of the stage. His face is covered by a baseball cap, but the rest of his body isn't swimming in baggy clothes like the other guys. This guy is wearing a white jumper that fits him well and dark jeans that hug his thick thighs. A sweat towel hangs from the back of his jeans and the silver chain around his neck glints under the harsh white lights. He clears his throat and the sound echoes from the speakers.
“I'm CB,” he greets. His voice is unexpectedly soft and whimsical. “Let's fuckin’ go.”
Not a moment later, the music begins with an odd tapping riff, followed by the ring of sirens. It immediately breaks into a verse where the riff stops and is replaced by a simple horn motif and the guy sings.
Run until my feet burn
Bare footed youth burn it up
His voice is strange and familiar all at once. It sends a hot shiver down Felix's front and it buries itself in his stomach to boil into something wild. The second this CB guy breaks into rap Felix feels this pull toward him as he bounces across the tiny stage, getting everyone bothered to watch excited. Felix slowly weaves his way through the crowd, around dancing strangers with wobbling cups of booze. He doesn't take his eyes off CB, not even when he parks himself in the middle of the crowd to watch him perform with wonder sparkling in his dark eyes.
Like many of the other artists who perform here, CB's accent comes out of hiding when he raps. It's loose with all the wide local diphthongs and Felix likes the sound of it. He can only catch a small glimpse of this guy's face, but his lips are full, with an almost rectangular quality to them and his nose is strong and wide. Felix watches his throat bob up and down and shine from the sheen of sweat that develops during his performance.
Felix finds himself doing a double take when he finds CB utter a few lines in what he recognises as Korean. It hits him deep in the stomach, a sense of familiarity clouded by distance. He curses himself for forgetting almost all the Korean his parents taught him as a child.
When CB finishes, he waves a sharp goodbye and jumps down from the mini stage with practised ease. His shoulders are relaxed, and he avoids the small swarm of people who rush toward him to congratulate him on his performance or get his socials. He skirts around the edges of the venue and takes his hat off. His hair is dark and almost curly where it doesn’t stick to his head from all the sweat.
Felix watches him approach the bar for a drink and notes that he doesn't pay. He disappears through a door in the back like smoke through an open window. Only then does Felix release the breath he has unknowingly been holding in all that time. His mind swirls and it's not just from the booze.
An odd feeling rests in the pit of his stomach. Heavy and fizzling with something metallic that makes his mouth go dry. He clenches and unclenches his fists and bites the inside of his mouth hard.
“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath.
There was something there that he was not yet ready to face.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
The air is thick with chlorine and the endless echo of hundreds of conversations against the walls of the aquatic centre. No one really bothers to cheer on the other swimmers, it’s just a university level tournament. What people do bother with, is cheering banter across the centre at other universities.
“USYD’s shit, chuck ‘em in the pit!”
“We’re from UTS, the mighty, mighty UTS!”
It’s mostly the boys, the scummy ones leading the charge and the rest piling on like dogs barking across the pond at each other. The rest don’t bother to engage and spend their time wisely: chatting amongst each other, sharing snacks, and occasionally walking their friends down to the marshalling rooms when their race is near, smacking them on the back and telling them break a leg .
Felix is perched comfortably on the very edge of one of the plastic seats while his mates are clogging up the concrete steps of the aisle. They don’t seem to mind people stepping over them to get through. They’re all watching Jayden play on his Switch, but Felix got bored of watching after the first few minutes. So, now he’s scanning the crowd and blankly watching the freestyle heats.
It’s only the district championships, so the atmosphere is much more relaxed than what the national championships would be, should Felix make it into them.
He scans the starting blocks and lets out a sigh as his eyes grace over the bare chests of eight young men lined up and ready to dive in. None of them have raced yet, Felix can tell from the dry skin and the way their caps fit. Some of them have a little bit of extra chub to them, which Felix loves. Others are a mix of incredibly lean and sinewy or have borderline Olympic swimmer bodies.
Felix wets his lips as his eyes come to rest on a particular man’s chest. He’s quite lean, but still broad with rounded deltoids that Felix just wants to bite into. There’s a certain honey undertone to his skin and the divots in his flesh make his torso look like it was carved from marble – better than Michelangelo’s David.
He swallows thickly and shifts to get a better look at the guy, crossing his leg over his thigh as he does so. There is something startlingly familiar about his face, Felix notices. His spine immediately straightens, and he leans even further forward to catch a glimpse of those perfect lips and that strong, wide nose.
“Wuagh! Felix’s got a crush,” his swim team friend, Pinch, teases loudly. It’s not his real name, but that’s what everyone on the swim team knows him as. It doesn’t take long for the rest of his teammates to perk up and eye Felix until his entire face is bright red. A few of them scamper up to try and pick the guy out from the line up, but the starting buzzer goes off and they dive into the pool. Felix tries to watch as his friends crowd around the railing and point to each of the swimmers, arguing whether or not they’d be the one Felix had a crush on.
“You guys are fucking blind,” Mei sighs from where she sits two seats away from Felix. She’s the captain of the women’s team. “It’s obviously Chris Bang. I don’t even need to look to know it’s him.” Her tone is blunt, but she leans forward anyway to confirm her suspicions. The guy is pulling far ahead in the race, first by almost an entire metre.
“Chris Bang?” Felix finds himself asking. C. B. are the initials. He was right.
“You don’t know Chris Bang?” Comes a chorus of shock.
This is why Felix hates being a first year. He has missed out on all the drama of previous years and people look at him like it’s a sin not to know these things. He sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning back to lazily gesture ‘lay it on me’.
“Guy wins every race, every year,” Mei summarises.
“Doesn’t help that he’s a massive prick as well,” Pinch adds.
“Come on, Pinch. You’re just mad he won’t fuck you,” another voice adds.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but do I look gay to you?” Pinch shoots back and gives him the finger. “Fark off.”
Felix sighs and leans forward to get a better look at Chris Bang getting out of the pool.
He has this air about him that screams untouchable . He carries himself with pride, perfect posture, chin set straight as droplets of pool water cascade down his back. Felix can't help but scowl at the arrogance, but finds his own features smoothing over as his mind slips to focus on the well-defined back muscles as Chris Bang disappears into the darkness below the stands.
“Well, Felix, guess it's time to show him how good your stroke game is,” Pinch declares, slapping a hand onto Felix's shoulder.
He chokes on his own spit. “Please don't say stroke game ever again.”
With a heavy sigh, Felix gets up to stretch his muscles before retreating to the marshalling room. Today he will be racing in the 100m and 200m backstroke, that's it. It's the only thing he’s good at in regards to swimming. Some of the guys in the room are already wet from their freestyle races and Felix keeps his eyes down like he always does.
The martial directs him to sit in the back row of chairs, second from the end. He's in lane 3. Slowly, the other guys in the race file into their seats and with every race, they climb over the back of the chairs to move up a row. Some of them seem to know each other and chat across the rows, but Felix doesn't know anyone. That is, until he sees a very well-defined torso from the corner of his eye. For a split second, he allows himself to look and boy, when he does, he cannot stop himself from rolling his eyes.
Chris Bang is sat next to him. Jesus fucking Christ.
Felix won’t let himself take another look beside him. Even just from a glimpse, he can tell Chris is infuriatingly hot. Not only that, but his charm is something to be violently envious of. He’s chatting animatedly across the room with a bunch of other people and one of the guys in the row in front is sitting backwards and joking around with him in Korean. They must be friends from the same university.
Felix bites the side of his cheek as he is overcome with another cold wave of regret for not practising his Korean growing up. He didn’t have any friends to speak with, so he slowly forgot almost everything he was taught.
The guy from the row in front briefly side-eyes Felix before he says something to Chris with a sly grin. There is only one word in there Felix recognises.
Mallasso . Skinny .
Beside him, Chris laughs, a short, sharp breath of air passing through his nose in amusement. They’re calling him thin. He knows it because it’s what his mother always used to say to him as a kid and even when he finally hit puberty because he didn’t develop an ounce of muscle, despite going to swimming training every week. He grits his teeth and folds his arms over his chest self-consciously.
Pinch was right, Chris Bang was a prick.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
The water is cold when Felix lowers himself into it. Jumping into the cold water before the race is the worst part about competing in backstroke. He shivers slightly as he hoists himself up against the wall, holding onto the bar on the starting block. His chest prickles with anxiety and it feels almost empty as he waits for the starting buzzer to go off. He spares a glance to his left to see Chris Bang practically in a meditative state and can’t help but roll his eyes. At least he doesn’t have to beat Chris Bang if he wants to get into the finals, he just needs his lap time to be in the top ten.
He lets out a breath slowly and it shakes in his lungs. The buzzer sounds and he sucks in a breath before he throws himself back, diving under the water. He can feel the streamlines rushing over his skin and he gasps for air as he resurfaces – too early . Fuck , he hisses through his teeth. He can just see the roof of the centre through the water that rushes over his goggles and the flags that pass over him as he pushes his legs hard and throws his arms behind him, propelling himself through the water.
Water splashes nearby as he gets a little too close to the lane rope. It means he must not be far behind Chris Bang. A zap of excitement bursts through his stomach, urging his tiring limbs on – he has a chance at making it. He keeps kicking and kicking until he is sure the end is only a few strokes away, but he is tiring quickly. His lungs are burning, and they sting with prickling dryness as he sucks in every precious breath he can manage.
His hand smacks hard against the touchpad at the end and his entire body jolts as it stops in the water suddenly. He yanks his goggles off and wipes his eyes so he can see the board, searching frantically for lane 3.
1:07.58 .
It has the number 2 next to it. He gasps in shock and scans the board, looking for number 1’s time and he finds only one.
1:03.19 .
He came second, not too far behind Chris Bang. There is hope he can make it to the finals.
A head suddenly pops up in his lane and Felix almost shouts in surprise, mind completely blurred beyond recognition from the adrenaline. He wishes he had drowned when he realises it's Chris Bang in his lane, and it doesn’t look like he’s there to leave the pool. Felix feels his lips pull tight at the sight of his stupidly handsome face – he even looks good in a swimming cap. No one looks good in a swimming cap.
“Not bad,” he comments with an appreciative frown and nod, before disappearing under the water and reappearing in the next lane. He doesn’t speak to the guy in that lane, he just ducks under the rope again to leave the pool.
Felix lets a breath escape his aching lungs and he coughs as the dryness tickles his throat. His whole body is shaking from the aftermath of pushing himself too hard and he struggles to get himself out of the pool. He didn’t have to go so hard for the heats, but he wanted to prove himself, prove that he wasn’t just some useless skinny kid who couldn’t race. Maybe he can beat Chris Bang and make him eat his friend’s words.
His teammates applaud him as he returns and wraps his shaking body in a towel. Mei pats him on the back and mutters something about how she’s never seen him swim like that. Part of Felix hates that she is right about it.
The rest of the heats pass uneventfully, and Felix learns that he has made it into the finals for today’s tournament. He is pleased with his efforts and returns to the marshalling room once more with Jayden, who made it through to the butterfly finals. They stick close to one another as banter is carelessly tossed around the room, though, soon they must separate when they are sorted into their lanes again.
Felix ends up two seats down from Chris Bang. He’s waving around the time sheets, reading out everyone’s heat times from slowest qualifying to fastest. His voice grates against Felix’s ears and he wishes the guy would just shut up already.
“And the man to look out for, our little pocket rocket, Felix Lee,” he calls out last with a cheeky smile.
Felix cannot help the way his head shoots up at the mention of his name. His heart stutters at the thought of himself being second only to Chris Bang. But he also can’t help but feel bitter at the nickname Chris had given him. Little pocket rocket . He’s the same height as him! That, coupled with Chris laughing at him being called skinny, was enough for a scowl to settle into Felix’s features.
“Fucken’ wanker,” Felix lets slip from his lips. He is lucky he doesn’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear, except maybe the guy sat next to him. He snickers quietly at the comment but says nothing further.
Felix steams in his own anxiety for the remainder of the waiting period. Their race is called and a hot spike of anxiety fizzles and sparks in his stomach. If he gets a good time in this final race, he might make it to nationals. Maybe his parents would be proud of him for achieving something – not that it would get him anywhere in the long run.
His bare feet pad along the damp tiles beside the pool as he follows the line of swimmers to the starting blocks. They jump into the water one after another, waiting for the buzzer to sound once more.
The crowd has calmed down somewhat, most students are vaguely interested in watching the races now that it’s the finals for the day. Half the stadium waits with bated breath and Felix feels his heart plummet into his stomach as his thoughts turn sour in the moments before the starting signal.
The starting buzzer goes off with a croak and Felix’s feet slip from the pool wall as he launches himself back, falling short. For a moment, panic takes over his body, making him feel cold and stiff as glaciers grinding against rock. He didn’t start properly; he stumbled at the very start and has little hope of catching up. The air shoots out of his lungs far too fast, and he almost chokes as he tries to take in a gulp of fresh air.
He needs to catch up.
He pushes his body as far as it can go, and then even further. His arms and legs ache and sting with the acid that builds up in his muscles, but he presses on. From the corner of his eye, he can see someone’s legs kicking up a storm and on his other side, he can see arms shooting back – he might be catching up.
The relief is short-lived. Felix can feel his pace slowing as he tires much quicker than he expected. He had pushed himself too far too early and he can already feel himself slowing down. He bites his lip and forces his body to keep going – it’s all about the mindset, they say.
By the time he passes the set of flags that hang above the last quarter of the pool, he is almost sure he will drown when he finishes. His lungs burn with a sticky dryness and his chest heaves hollowly. He is so close to the finish line. The crowd is cheering, not for him, but he knows Mei, Jayden and Pinch will be the ones to cheer him on in spite of his rocky start.
When he feels the hard, ridged rubber of the touchpad, relief courses through him like ice cold beer on a 42-degree day. He gasps for air and sinks beneath the surface unexpectedly. Water suddenly gets stuck in his lungs and he sputters. He coughs violently and tries to keep himself afloat enough to breathe properly once more. He pulls his goggles off as he begins to feel a little less on death’s door.
The race has ended, and Felix takes a chance to look up at the board to search for his lane number.
4: 3: 1:04.26
He came third.
Felix rubs his eyes and grimaces as the chlorine irritates them. There’s no way he caught up that much. His mouth hangs open wide as he searches for who came first and second. In first place is Chris Bang – without a doubt – and second is some guy in lane 7 Felix can’t quite remember the name of. He ducks under the lane ropes to the exit along with the others and is handed a green ribbon with golden letters.
T H I R D .
He cannot find it in himself to complain and allows a satisfied grin to split across his face. It is possible for him to make it to nationals with that time. With that looming in his future, he would have plenty of motivation to keep training with the university swimming team.
Felix wasn’t looking where he was going and suddenly feels himself crash into something firm. He accidentally drops his ribbon, and it flutters to the floor. Dark wet patches quickly seep through the fabric and soak it.
“Eyes up here,” a familiar voice tuts. Felix can feel his insides pull tight and his eyes go wide. He keeps his gaze down and murmurs a quick ‘sorry’ before darting away, not bothering to bend down and pick up his ribbon. All he knows is that he wants to get back to his friends and get dry as quickly as possible.
He darts past the starting blocks and through to the stairwell that led to the stands. He’s not in the mood to deal with any of this – in his eyes, Chris Bang is a prick after all.
“Oi, Felix,” a call comes from the bottom of the concrete steps and Felix freezes. He swallows the glob of saliva that’s stuck in his throat before he regretfully turns to face Chris. “You dropped this.” He holds up the sad, wet ribbon.
“I don’t care. Keep it.”
Felix turns to leave. He doesn’t want Chris to know how much his existence drives him mad, he doesn’t want to face him.
“Maybe if you did care, you’d get sick of me beating you all the time and do something about it.” He doesn’t jest, there is something in his tone that bleeds amongst his confidence. It sinks into Felix like a harpoon. He clenches his jaw and spares a glance at Chris before he retreats up the stairs.
He’ll beat Chris Bang one day. He’ll show him he’s not just some skinny kid from Strathfield who spent all his time in the public pool. He isn’t sure how he would accomplish such a feat, but the answer somehow falls into his lap weeks later.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
It’s humid inside the university pool. It reeks of that chlorine smell that always seems to cling to Felix no matter how long he showers or how thoroughly he washes. It’s probably because he spends too much time in the pool.
His eyes burn from the harsh fluorescent lights. It’s quiet at this hour, only the people who are dedicated to swimming get up this early to train. It’s 6 am and the swim team line up along the starting blocks and dive in one after another to run warm-up laps. They take up three or four of the pool’s six lanes, the rest of the lanes are for other students or staff to use. It’s mostly just the old codgers slowly swimming laps like they’re meditating.
Felix jumps into the last lane after Pinch and tenses as the cool water shocks his skin. It’s always like this. But it only takes a few minutes for the chill to seep through him, for the water to begin to feel like a second skin.
They all run a few laps of freestyle for warm-up, but then eventually switch to the strokes they prefer to practise. All is well and good until Felix hits the end of the pool and sees a familiar face off to his right. He flinches so hard that water gets stuck in his throat and he coughs violently.
There, on the starting blocks, is Chris Bang in all his glory. Hair hidden under a black rubber cap, torso firm in all the right places. He leaps from the starting block without a care in the world and slips into the water seamlessly. Felix cannot stifle the growl that rises in his throat. Chris Bang has some nerve showing up at his university gym.
He doesn’t even go here.
“You right there?” Mei asks from the poolside with a huff of laughter.
“Yeah,” Felix shoots back sourly.
He ends up pushing himself harder in this training session than he ever has. He can always see Chris paddling along in the lane next to him – still somehow faster than him. It grinds Felix’s gears like nothing else. His feet continuously churn the water, propelling him forward as his chest heaves harder and harder with every moment that passes. It feels so useless, like he’s stuck in one of those swim spas, moving nowhere no matter how hard he swims.
Felix pulls himself out of the pool, water cascading into the puddles already on the tiled floor. His throat feels so dry he almost feels his airway sticking to itself. He swallows every last dreg of spit in his mouth, hoping it’ll help. From the corner of his eye, someone holds out his drink bottle toward him.
“Christ, Lix, you look like you’re trying to kill yourself out there,” Jayden jokes light heartedly, pressing the red metal bottle into his hand.
“You’re not far off,” he gasps in reply before downing half his bottle in one go. “Wouldn’t mind just fuckin’ dying right here, right now.”
“I thought you were only in this for fun and fitness,” Jayden comments, drying the insides of his goggles on his towel.
“I was.”
Jayden’s gaze shifts across the pool. He squints and furrows his eyebrows before nudging Felix in the ribs with his elbows.
“Look, don’t get me wrong,” he begins. Felix braces himself for whatever stupid question comes after his classic disclaimer. “But is that Chris Bang over there?”
Felix sighs but not for the reason Jayden thinks. His friend starts to bumble the beginnings of an apology, but he cuts him off with a pat to the shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s him. Dunno what the hell he’s doing here though,” he sighs.
“ Oh. ” Jayden’s eyes go wide. He keeps staring at Chris, mouth wide open like he’s almost star struck. Felix flounders and backhands him across the shoulder.
“Don’t look at him!” Felix hisses. It only makes Jayden laugh darkly.
“ Oh, Felix ,” he coos. “Don’t tell me you’ve let Chris Bang get under your skin.”
His jaw clenches hard enough to hurt and he shakes his head. He walks away, feeling the water evaporate from his skin from the heat of his anger. He jumps back in. The water of the pool is cool and the tenseness in his muscles dissolves away as he goes back to swimming laps, trying to ignore stupid Chris Bang who has decided to practise breaststroke in the lane next to him.
Jayden was right. He certainly had let Chris Bang under his skin. He was like an annoying splinter you couldn't remove unless you cut the skin open again. Perhaps Chris just does this to all his rivals and there was no need to get the knife out just yet.
Felix resolves to ignore the problem. If you don't bark, there's no risk of getting bitten.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
All was well with the week, serene – if you could ignore the crushing weight of four assignments due across the space of one week. Chris Bang had not shown up to any of the other swim team training sessions this week, so things were looking up for Felix.
He was working up a sweat on the treadmill at the university gym, blasting shitty EDM music in his earphones to forget how much his legs hurt. He slows down to a walk to quench his thirst and works his way back up to a steady jog.
At the gym, he always needs to remind himself not to look. He keeps his eyes plastered on the treadmill interface because it's much more entertaining than being confronted by some hyper-straight beefed-up white dude thinking he's being predatory for glancing at him. Not to mention that changerooms are a fucking nightmare.
A face catches the corner of his eye. He looks up suddenly to see none other than Chris Bang staring at him. There is a light sheen of sweat over his skin and his biceps bulge as he curls with large weights in his fist. His eyes bore into him unwaveringly, making Felix almost trip on the treadmill.
What the fuck is he doing here?
The problem quickly scales up Felix's list of priorities and sits proudly at number one. Chris Bang is absolutely messing with him.
He slows down the treadmill and hops off, taking his water bottle with him. Chris is pretending – very badly – to not notice Felix storming up to him.
“The fuck is your problem?” Felix hisses quietly.
“Problem? I don't have a problem,” Chris replies with a friendly smile, dripping with faux innocence.
“You don't even go here, why are you following me?”
Chan lowers the dumbbells to the ground and crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe I just like the facilities here,” he replies with the tilt of his head.
“I really doubt that. I know you go to uni all the way across the city. You're here to fuck with me with this mind game thing of yours. Go home and stop messing with me.” He knows he's making a scene now with his voice raising and tone becoming sharper than a guillotine blade. Chris seems not to react to it and keeps his cool. It only serves to infuriate Felix further.
“If I were here to fuck with you, this would be going very differently,” Chris comments with an amused laugh. “You know, you train much harder when I'm around.”
“And how would you know that?” Felix crosses his arms and feels his nostrils flare.
“Because I watched you on Thursday last week.”
All the heat of a solar flare boils through Felix's body.
“You're a fucking creep.”
“I know you feel like you need to prove yourself to me because of what my friend said about you.” Chris' voice drops from calm to pitiful.
“You don't know shit about me,” Felix retorts, feeling awfully vulnerable knowing that Chris knows why he hates him.
“If I take you out for bubble tea, will you shut the fuck up and speak to me like a human being?” Chris offers tiredly. Felix feels his anger evaporate along with the sheen of sweat on his skin. Anger is quickly replaced with confusion and the lines of it become evident in his face.
“Wait what?” Felix blurts. And Chris repeats himself. “ You want to buy me bubble tea, so we can speak civilly?”
He nods.
“I may not know you, Felix Lee, but I at least know you’re a sucker for bubble tea.”
Felix sighs and backs off. “I kinda wanna punch you right now.”
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
The condensation on the plastic cup drips down over the sides of Felix’s fingers and he stares at the little droplets, far too embarrassed to talk. Chris sits down next to him but keeps a respectable distance between them. He recommended the crème brûlée milk tea from this fancy place called The Alleyway ─ paid for it and everything.
“Thank you,” Felix murmurs.
It takes a lot for them to get started, especially since Felix keeps his eyes trained on his beverage. It tastes sweeter and creamier than any milk tea he has ever tried. The tapioca pearls are soft, chewy, and unexpectedly warm from the syrup they sit in at the bottom of the cup.
“I’m sorry about what my friend, Jay, said,” Chris begins. “He’s stupid and doesn’t think before he talks.”
“He’s a dick,” Felix grumbles, taking a sip of the milk tea and chewing on the pearls for a little while.
“In my defence, I was laughing because he was reminding me of how skinny I used to be, not at you. Besides, you’ve got some muscle on you.” Felix wasn’t even looking at him and he could hear the smirk in his voice. His eyes burn into the concrete at his feet as he tries to wish away the embarrassment that rises in his cheeks.
“Shut up,” he grumbles.
“What, am I making you blush?” Chris teases, playfully giving Felix’s ankle a kick. “What are you, fucking gay?”
Felix laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh.”
Chris touches the back of his hand to Felix’s arm and looks at him seriously. “Don’t worry, I’m bi.”
Felix exhales audibly and Chris’ face splits into a cheeky grin. He laughs hard, hard enough for strangers passing by to stare at them in confusion.
“Are you sure you’re not the one who likes to piss people off?” Felix asks teasingly.
Chris stutters something out in Korean between breaths of laughter and Felix does not laugh along. They fall into an awkward silence after Chris’ laughter becomes nervous and drops off.
“You don’t know a lot of Korean, do you?” His voice drops to a murmur as he tries to approach the subject with sensitivity.
“If you’re gonna gatekeep, I’ll fucking leave and never talk to you again,” Felix sighs. He’s tired of this and his body flops back against the bench they’re sitting on.
“I’m not gonna gatekeep. Were your parents worried about you fitting in at school?”
“Yeah.”
The silence that falls between them is different this time. It’s filled with understanding and a mutual sort of mourning. The chewy pearls in Felix’s mouth begin to taste sour and he gives up on drinking the rest. Beside him, Chris seems to share the same sentiment, though he sticks out his hand and makes a grabbing motion toward Felix.
“Gimme your phone. I’ll give you my number in case you want to practise – be it Korean or just swimming. God knows you need some motivation when it comes to swimming practice.”
Felix is not impressed, but reluctantly hands his phone over to Chris, who quickly creates a contact for himself and hands the phone back. He stands up, looking quite pleased, chest all puffed up and nodding to himself as if he just accomplished something.
“Peace established. I’ll see you in Melbourne,” he says and turns away without another word.
“If you think you’ve established peace, you’re very wrong,” Felix grumbles as he stuffs his phone into his pocket. Chris turns back briefly and flashes a cheeky, lopsided smile and disappears around the corner.
Felix shakes his head and laughs tiredly. Melbourne? Had he made it to Nationals? One quick look at his university email inbox confirms it.
He qualified for Nationals. He’d be racing against Chris Bang one last time.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
Melbourne was a strange place to Felix, he had only ever visited once before. It looked like Sydney in some of the most subtle of ways, but the air was different, it felt a lot less chaotic and a little more snobbish – cultured . He sighs heavily as rain begins to pitter patter on the window of the hotel room. It was sunny not five minutes ago.
“What are you so sullen about?” Pinch asks from his corner of the room. Of his friends on the swimming team, only he, Pinch and Mei qualified for nationals.
“Nothing. Was going to go out to explore but it’s raining now,” he murmurs.
“That’s Melbourne weather for ya,” Pinch teases. “Gonna go for a swim in the hotel pool with Mei, you up for it?”
Felix shakes his head. He can feel his body deflating with the weight that has set itself in his stomach and he sinks further against the wall beside his bed. “Yeah nah. I’ll see you later.” Pinch nods and leaves with his towel. He’s not the type to talk about feelings and shit, says he eats them for breakfast.
Chris’ number still sits in his phone, completely unused and begging for his attention. He’s mulled over it for hours now, trying to muster up the courage to text him anything. He doesn’t want to give Chris the wrong idea, talking hasn’t fixed everything between them, Felix still feels his blood boil at the thought of him.
The thought of facing off against Chris at Nationals tomorrow is only secondary to the thought of seeing him and suffering through the awkwardness of not texting him. He has to say something – anything.
You ready to lose tomorrow?
No. Too cocky. He deletes the message and bites his lip as he thinks of something else to type.
wyd?
Too casual. Misleading.
I’m surprised I haven’t run into you yet, given our track record.
Felix hits send before he can think of a reason to delete the message. His stomach immediately flutters with nerves and the sick taste of regret. He’s terrified a reply will come straight away and he won’t be prepared to read the response. He tosses the phone aside with a heavy sigh and rubs his face with his palms, hard enough for phosphenes to swirl behind his eyes.
The rain pitter patters against the window, and it lulls Felix into a dreamlike state as he melts into the soft mattress. The anxiety that had been swirling around inside him begins to seep away along with his consciousness. Soon he’s asleep, wandering through strange dreams of swimming through the ocean and arriving at beaches that are familiar, but unfamiliar enough not to be recognisable.
Felix jolts awake as his phone suddenly vibrates. He feels dizzy as he tries to roll over and find his phone. It’s dark now, he’s unsure how long he’s been asleep, and the bright light of his phone screen hurts his eyes. Once his eyes adjust to the brightness, he almost throws his phone away when he sees who the notification is from.
Chris Bang
Come swim with me before the pool closes.
Felix would be lying if he said the message didn’t make him shiver. The way Chris is so stupidly confident does nothing but infuriate Felix. He’s supposed to hate this guy, but they keep chasing after one another like a dog and its tail.
Where?
It’s a short reply. He can’t afford to let any of his words be used against him.
It’s not long before Chris sends the name of the hotel with an address. It’s almost 10 p.m., Felix has got to be half mad to sneak out and meet up with the opposition for a cheeky swim. He rolls his eyes at the argument he’s trying to have with himself and grabs his swim bag, along with the hotel key and leaves.
“Oi Felix,” he hears Pinch shout from down the hall. “Where ya goin’?”
“For a swim,” he replies. Pinch jogs up to meet him, leaving Mei lagging behind. “I’ll be back later.”
“Pool’s about to close,” Pinch says, his voice cracks up an octave with confusion.
“I’ll be right.” Felix leaves him no more time to question his antics and Pinch leaves him to it. As he rides the elevator down to the ground floor, he gets the tram route up onto Google Maps. It’s a 20 minute trip, not half bad.
As Felix arrives at the other hotel and checks his phone to find vague directions to the pool sitting in his inbox. The reception area is mostly empty and Felix bustles by, keeping his eyes glued to his phone. He has no idea what gave him the confidence to do this, but he refuses to back down.
He can smell the pool before he sees it. The chlorine hangs in the air, like some twisted form of cooking aroma, calling him home. The smell hits him like a brick when he opens the door to the pool and finds it empty except for one person swimming laps at a leisurely pace. Felix drops his bag and Chris surfaces at the end of the pool. He takes his goggles off and shakes his hair, flashing a cheeky smile.
“I almost didn’t think you’d show up,” Chris teases, resting against the edge of the pool. Felix scoffs in reply and approaches.
“You think I’d back down from a challenge?” He nudges Chris’ arms off the edge of the pool, sending him further back into the water. Chris laughs and leaps upward, wrapping his arms around Felix’s legs and pulling him forward. Felix shouts, waving his arms as if it’ll stop him from falling into the water. The water is surprisingly cold when Felix falls in and he groans as his wet clothes begin to weigh him down.
“Mother fucker,” he groans as he surfaces. As he turns around, he sees Chris wearing a shit eating grin. He splashes him and paddles over to the wall, hoping to drag his sopping wet body out of the water. “These are the only clothes I brought!”
“I guess I’ll have to lend you some,” Chris coos, splashing him back.
Felix grits his teeth and pulls himself out of the water on the side of the pool. “God, I bet you’d fucking bust a nut in your swim trunks if I wore your dumb clothes.”
Beside him, Chris snorts and splutters violently.
“Fuck off, you wish,” he murmurs once he catches his breath, shoving Felix’s knee.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go change into my swim shorts,” Felix grumbles. He retreats from the pool and snatches his bag up from the floor. It doesn’t take him long to change, but he feels better without his sopping wet clothes weighing him down and restricting his movement.
He returns to the pool and swiftly dives in without giving it a second thought. It almost feels warm getting back into the water and it rushes past him like silk. He resurfaces and pushes his wet hair out of his eyes to see Chris at the other end of the pool, watching on with a pleased grin. He swims over to meet Felix in the middle of the pool and stops to tread water about a metre away.
Felix stares up at the ceiling, floating on his back with eyes unfocused as he loses himself in the bright lights above. He murmurs under his breath. “You know I saw you a few weeks ago. Even before the tournament. At The Phoenix.” He hates to admit it, but the image of Chris up on that shitty little stage has stuck with him for far longer than he would have liked.
“I know. I saw you there too,” Chris replies. Felix sits up so fast he chokes on the water.
“Didn’t think you’d remember seeing me between the hundred other people staring at you,” he admits, paddling away slightly.
“So you admit it, you were staring at me,” Chris teases in a low voice. He’s getting closer and it’s making Felix’s heart tremble in his chest.
“Shut up.” Felix splashes him hard this time and it makes Chris turns away to spit out water. “You’re just using your pretty privilege to get me to come practise with you.” Chris laughs at his words, but doesn’t make his life hell for calling him pretty.
“You know when you get two magnets with the same poles facing each other, when one gets closer, it pushes the other away,” Chris muses, paddling closer. Felix does not back away, he tries to stand his ground, but his heart hammers in his chest.
“You don’t do that.” Chris’ voice has dropped an octave and his eyes are half lidded. He’s so close, there’s only the barest amount of space between them and Felix feels the water move against his skin as Chris keeps himself afloat. He bites his lip ever so subtly and Felix chews on the inside of his cheek as he observes the action. Everything beneath his skin is thrumming, like he’s anticipating take-off into the great unknown of space.
He stands on his tip toes, so his head is just above the water and Chris moves forward, closing what little difference was left between them. His lips part and his hooded eyes slowly glance from Felix’s eyes to his lips. The air is so still, Felix can hear himself exhale shakily and the sound travels through the room. He can feel Chris’ breath fan cold across his wet cheek and he angles his head slightly, leaning forward, holding his breath.
They come together in a sudden surge that wells up from the pit of their guts and ripples through their limbs. Chris’ mouth is warm on his, his lips are soft and his nose presses hard against Felix’s cheek. They kiss feverishly, gripping onto one another hard enough to bruise or leave crescent shaped dents in the other’s skin. The image of the crescents turning purple tingles in the back of Felix’s mind. He teethes at Chris’ lip and receives a split-second shock when Chris bites him. The air rushes from his lungs as his body tenses for a moment and then goes limp as Chris wraps an arm around his lower back.
Chris towers above him and the water washes over his face as he begins to sink beneath the surface. He gasps for air against Chris’ lips before he slips under the water, spending the last breath in his body against Chris’ cheek. The air bubbles to the surface, grazing against Chris’ face and they only part when Felix chokes on the pool water and shoots up to the surface with a cough.
“Fuckin’ hell, you trying to drown me, or somethin’?” he grumbles, wiping away the spit mixed with pool water that is dripping down his chin.
“If I drown you, I don’t have to worry about you winning tomorrow,” Chris teases.
“Haha, you’re so funny,” Felix grumbles sarcastically, weakly splashing at Chris, who seizes his wrist with a dark look on his face. He stares at Felix as he raises his wrist to his mouth and bites hard. Felix jerks his hand away as the pinch of pain emanates from the area. There is a purple ring of teeth around his wrist, and he shakes his hand to get the blood flow back to normal. Chris seems very pleased with himself and swims over to the edge of the pool.
“Fuckin’ piranha,” Felix hisses, following after Chris. “Get me some dry clothes.” He pulls himself out of the pool and water drips everywhere. They retreat to the change rooms and Felix changes out of his swim shorts, washes them and stuffs them into the plastic shopper he keeps in his swim bag. He keeps his towel around his waist and Chris throws him a windbreaker.
“That’s all I got. Come with me up to my room,” Chris says by the door, the corner of his mouth is pulled up ever so slightly.
It’s not over just yet.
Felix wets his lips and follows Chris, keeping his grip tight on his towel to stop his mind from wandering into depraved corners. They’re quiet during the elevator ride up to Chris’ hotel room and Felix can feel the tiny hairs on his stomach begin to stand up when his thoughts begin to fixate on where this leads and how he’s never done this before. The pit of his stomach twists with excitement but also flashes with a pinch of pain from the nerves that spark.
Chris leads him down the hall and soft voices permeate through the shut doors lining the corridors. People must be excited the night before the big competition, but Felix is excited for something else. Chris looks back at him as he scans his room key and opens the door.
Inside his room looks just like what any standard hotel room would look like; clean walls, big white bed in the middle, duffel bag carelessly tossed to the side of the room with clothes leaking out of it and into a fabric puddle on the floor around it. As Felix steps into the room, Chris shuts the door behind him, only leaving a few inches of space between them. He’s about the same height as Felix, but the weight of his gaze practically makes Felix lose an inch of height beneath it.
“Tell me I’m reading this the right way,” Chris whispers against Felix’s cheek. His arm is extended, just above Felix’s shoulder, so he leans against the door, almost caging him in.
“Yeah.” It’s all Felix can manage under his breath, his mind races with thoughts so quickly, he cannot even recognise a single one. “J-just know that this changes nothing. I still hate you and wanna beat your ass into the dirt tomorrow.”
Chris releases a quiet breath of laughter and surges forward to capture Felix’s plump lips in a kiss. He briefly pulls back to murmur against his lips. “That’s it, keep talking dirty to me.” He presses Felix against the wall, hands sliding up and over his chest, pressing down enough to dimple the skin. “I like it.”
Deep red blooms in Felix’s chest beneath Chris’ fingers and the warmth guides him forward with eyes heavy and closed. His arms wind around Chris, one tight around his lower back and the other snakes around to grip the back of his neck, squeezing so his head angles backward. Felix kisses him hard with this newfound hunger that boils beneath his skin like devilish moonflowers.
Felix can feel Chris’ hand sliding down his stomach and his fingers poke beneath the top of the towel around his waist. He digs his fingers into Chris’ lower back, hard enough to leave a mark and weaken his knees.
“Sometimes I want you to just shut the fuck up,” Felix growls against Chris’ lips. He can feel the way a sly smile splits over Chris’ face and the way his body moves with his laughter.
“Fuckin’ make me,” he croons, latching onto the sensitive underside of Felix’s jaw. His lips are soft and wet against Felix, and he sucks a love bite into his skin until it blooms red and fades to purple. He continues, sucking on every inch of him, trailing down his neck, biting at his collarbones. Felix’s head rolls back and bumps against the wall as the feeling against his skin amplifies as Chris’ lips go lower. He tangles his fingers in Chris’ curly locks and presses down on his head until he sinks to his knees.
Felix peeks down at Chris and feels his blood rush thick and hot through his veins. He’s never felt this way before, his head is fuzzy with this wild confidence and curling cloud of lust. His belly aches with how tight the muscles have pulled as arousal floods his lower half – certain that Chris can see his dick through the towel. He feels powerful when Chris looks up at him from below, though his cheeks go red when he notices the cluster of red marks that trail down his own torso.
“Fuck sake. I’m not gonna be able to cover this shit up tomorrow,” Felix grumbles, stuffing his thumb into the corner of Chris’ mouth and pulling it back quickly when Chris bites down on his finger with a shit eating grin.
“Mine,” he jokes, pulling Felix’s towel undone so it falls into a fabric puddle around his feet. The cool air of the room makes sharp pinpricks of goosebumps ripple up Felix’s thighs. His cock hangs half hard between his legs, right in front of Chris’ face. He does not seem phased by it in the slightest, perhaps he is even enticed with how his eyes twinkle.
He knows Chris is just playing with him, and it makes his blood boil. His hand shoots outward and fists in Chris’ hair, dragging him forward until his cheek presses against his hip bone. Chris’ hand finds its way to Felix’s cock and gently strokes it to full hardness. The feeling makes Felix’s muscles weak and his grip on Chris’ curly hair loosens just a tad.
When Felix feels something warm and wet envelop his cock, he feels like melting into a puddle at Chris’ knees. He tugs at the hairs on the back of Chris’ neck, urging him forward to swallow him down. The velvety swipe of a tongue along the underside of his dick sends shivers up his spine and he bites the inside of his cheek.
“If I had’a known you sucked dick this good, I woulda given you a chance earlier,” Felix murmurs, laughing quietly to himself between strangled breaths. Chris delivers a harsh suck before pulling off with a wet slurp and gasps. He clambers to his feet with a wicked grin and presses his body against Felix’s, nose just brushing past his temple.
“But think of all the fun you’ve had hating my guts,” Chris croons into his ear, stroking his wet shaft. “Get on the bed.” His voice is dark, like a shadowy hand beckoning him into temptation. Goosebumps spike all the way up his arms and he feels a twinge at the base of his spine at the feeling of Chris’ lips against his ear.
The red haze clears, and Felix feels something in his mind drop like a weight into a pool, sinking until it hits the bottom with a dull thunk . He does not feel clarity, in fact, it feels more the opposite, like a milky haze has slid over his vision and he’s been left swimming through his own mind, naked and vulnerable.
He walks over to the bed without hesitation and sits on the end with one leg hiked up, watching Chris’ face twist from surprised to pleased. He watches closely as the tips of Chris fingers brush against the hem of his shirt before he grips it and pulls the fabric over his head. Felix could never get tired of looking at Chris shirtless, he’s known that about himself since day one. The planes of his abdomen have always been so defined and compact, Felix had always wanted to trace the divots in his skin with his finger.
“You don’t mind if I fuck you, right?” Chris asks, licking his lips and strutting forward slowly. Felix’s stomach drops and fizzles with something formidable at the thought of bottoming for what could very well be considered hate sex from his perspective.
“Give me one reason why I should let you,” he challenges, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. He swallows the heavy feeling in his throat and tightens his grip on the sheets behind him as Chris comes within reaching distance. He extends an arm toward Felix’s face in a soft gesture but freezes when Felix presses his foot against Chris’ crotch.
Felix can feel the heat radiating beneath the fabric of his sweats and the hardness of Chris’ cock. The pressure is only mild, enough for it to elicit a response, but not enough to draw pain or pleasure into the equation. Chris quirks an eyebrow and retracts his arm to slowly run his fingernails up Felix’s leg, from the ankle all the way to mid-thigh. It makes a shiver run up Felix’s spine, withdrawing his leg, suddenly feeling a little cold and far too naked.
Chris draws in closer, hooking a finger beneath Felix’s chin and tilting his head upward to meet his gaze. Beneath the cocky façade, Felix can see the slightest gleam of softness behind his eyes, it leaks into his actions with the lack of force behind his fingers.
“My one reason is that you’ll regret not sating your curiosity. We both know you want me – don’t try to hide,” he whispers darkly, squeezing Felix’s cheeks and turning his face back when he tries to look away in shame. “You’d fuck me to settle the score in your head, but baby, we know scores are only for the pool.”
Felix clenches his jaw, hard, and his hand flies up to grip Chris’ wrist tight enough for his knuckles to go white. He feels the familiar taste of poison on his tongue and swallows it back with a grimace.
“You think you have me all figured, Christopher Bang .” One side of his mouth pulls tight in a sharp grin as he sees Chris’ eyes flash at the use of his full name. “Don’t make me regret wanting to have a taste,” he snarls, forcing Chris’ arm back before sliding back onto the bed, feeling quite chuffed with himself. Chris draws away and shakes his head with a laugh, thoroughly entertained.
“Get lube and a condom,” he orders, getting comfortable on the soft bedding beneath him. “If you disappoint me, I’ll do more than beat you tomorrow.”
Chris chuckles to himself in defeat and walks over to his duffle bag to rifle through it as Felix stretches out on the bed, satisfied with the exchange. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the liquid pain leak out of his muscles and dissipate through his body. His eyes jerk open when he hears a foil packet land on the bed beside him, followed by the dull thud of a bottle. The side of the bed dips when Chris crawls up to him, only in his boxers.
“You’re looking mighty relaxed there,” Chris teases.
Felix licks his lips with a sly grin and sits himself up, coming face to face with Chris, barely an inch apart. His fingers slide up Chris’ chest, snaking in and out of the divots between his muscles until his thumbs press into the flesh beneath his jaw. He guides Chris forward, keeping their eyes locked until they slip closed when their lips meet again. There is nothing soft about the way he kisses Chris, digging his thumbs into the flesh beneath his jaw and guiding his mouth open to teasingly lick into it, uncaring of how filthy the action may seem.
Chris leans more and more of his weight against Felix, who welcomes the way Chris’ sinewy hands press against his chest. Eventually, Felix feels the sheets on his back and Chris’ weight above him and it makes him feel hazy again.
“Take your fuckin’ pants off, idiot,” Felix grumbles, weakly jabbing at the hem of Chris’ shorts.
“If you insist.” He rolls himself over and unceremoniously shucks his shorts off and sends them flying. “Naked. Happy?”
Felix shrugs. “Mildly. Hurry up.”
“Oh? Got somewhere else to be?” Chris teases, stationing himself above Felix, who pinches his nipple in annoyance.
“Yeah, got a dick appointment with your friend Jay after this,” Felix jests. “Make sure he can’t swim tomorrow.”
The smirk on Chris’ face disappears and he pulls back. It makes Felix’s stomach drop and he suddenly feels numb everywhere.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I didn’t mean that.” His heart is hammering against his chest.
Chris bares his teeth and flips Felix over in an instant. Both the sudden movement and tonal shift are enough to make him dizzy. He feels hands on his back, dimpling his skin and gripping at his hips hard enough to bruise – it’ll just be another thing Felix will have to wear without shame tomorrow.
There is a slight pause in Chris’ movement and Felix can hear the sound of a cap opening. He doesn’t look back, not wanting to kill the barest hint of mystery amongst the anticipation swelling in his gut. Chris squeezes a cheek in his hand and Felix can feel fingers prodding at his hole.
The breach is always uncomfortable at first and Felix wriggles his hips, trying to get more comfortable between Chris’ legs. It’s not long before Chris adds another finger, then another, working him open with no reservation and pressing down on his lower back, harder and harder.
The moment it starts to feel really good, Chris pulls his fingers away and Felix lets out the barest hint of a whine. The weight on the back of his thighs shifts, and he looks back to see Chris tearing open the condom packet. He shuffles his knees up further toward himself, feeling bitter in the back of his mind about basically presenting himself to be fucked.
“Good boy,” Chris hums appreciatively.
“Don’t you fucking ‘good boy’ me,” Felix hisses.
He gasps as Chris slides in all the way, groaning smugly.
“What should I call you then, Princess?” he asks, punctuating with a thrust of his hips. Felix groans.
“I dunno, not that, fuck head,” he spits. The grip on his hips is harsh enough to make him wince and Chris tuts at him. Suddenly, Felix’s face is pressed against the mattress, a hand tangled in his hair and forcing him down. Chris leans forward over him, lips just barely brushing against the shell of his ear.
“Feisty, aren’t we?” Chris muses darkly, hot breath ghosting across the side of his face. It makes him feel like his skin has evaporated, leaving a shivering heap of organs. He grits his teeth and kicks his hips back in retaliation.
“Yeah, when it comes to bossy cunts like you.” He was supposed to sound scathing, but his voice tapers off into the beginnings of a whine. That feeling, deep inside of him, grows as Chris becomes rougher with him, pressing down near the base of his skull, holding him in place as he rolls his hips.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Chris tuts.
“I fuck your mother with this mouth,” Felix growls in reply. Chris delivers a particularly harsh thrust, jerking him forward. Satisfaction builds in his stomach like champagne bubbles rising from his core and dissipating at the surface as the fervour behind Chris’ voice begins to wane. The flame of power licks at his insides, deeply satisfying as it grows in intensity and in synchrony with Chris’ rage.
“You think you’re all that .” Chris’ grip on his hips tightens, fingers digging into his flesh to leave plum coloured crescents. Felix feels his eyes roll back as he struggles to hold in the strange sound that ripples through his throat. He bites his lip and flips himself over, hooking his arms around Chris’ neck.
Chris isn’t expecting it and lands with a thud as Felix scrambles atop of him, smearing lube across his hips.
“I am ‘all that’ . You wouldn’t fuck me otherwise.” Chris grits his teeth at that, spurring Felix to continue. “You wouldn’t fuck just anybody . You fuck people who you feel threatened by.”
The muscles beneath Chris’ cheeks shift as he clenches his jaw. Felix knows he’s hit just the right sore spot to crack open that cocky façade and watch the vulnerability slip out of him like an egg yolk.
Felix lets a coy smirk take over his expression and presses down on Chris’ chest. He feels the muscles beneath his palms solidify as Chris grabs his waist. There are already bruises forming, trickling down from his neck to his torso like withered rose petals.
He reaches back to stuff himself full again, groaning as he seats himself fully on Chris’ cock. The embers of pleasure reignite in his lower belly as he begins to slowly rock back and forth, squeezing gently at Chris’ chest.
It’s not long before he feels accustomed to their new position and the world begins to spin around him like he is the centre of the new universe.
“Touch me like you know I deserve,” Felix whispers, letting his head fall back and his stomach pull taught. It makes the angle better, knocking the breath out of him.
“Fuck,” Chris gasps, rolling his hips upward. “Hate to think I'd have to let you go after this.” Felix’s jaw clenches and he squeezes Chris’ torso between his thighs, tight enough to make him whimper from the discomfort.
“I asked you to touch me, not talk shit,” he quips, raking his fingers down Chris’ torso. It makes the other’s hips kick, reaching that spot deep inside of him. He chuckles to himself and closes his eyes, riding out his little power trip to the rhythm of his own desires.
Felix's breath catches in his throat as he feels himself pass the threshold into the final stretch. His thighs shake as pleasure ripples up his sides like tiny stars travelling upstream. Drool runs down the side of his mouth as he gasps, struggling to keep his breathing normal.
“Fh-fuck—” he stutters. “Close. F-faster.”
Nails dig into the flesh of his ass as Chris grips tight, moving him up and down faster. His strength overpowers Felix’s shaking thighs, carrying him along the final stretch. He watches Felix’s adam’s apple bob as he throws his head back, breath heaving.
Felix feels himself go cross-eyed and he wraps a hand around himself, stroking furiously. He bites his lip to distract from the mild sting from the friction. He groans as he finally feels his body shatter between Chris’ hands.
He cums, hard, thoughts draining away with it. Chris flinches beneath him, slapping his thigh with a loud thwack .
“Agh, fuck!” Chris shouts.
Felix opens his eyes, looks down at Chris and slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter that threatens to spill. He watches as Chris grits his teeth and wipes the cum from his face in a single, irritated movement.
“I’m—” Felix stops himself. He is not sorry, at all.
Chris growls, and it’s not just some frustrated growl, it’s deep and primal. Felix is still sitting in his post orgasmic haze and doesn’t fully comprehend what happens next until he realises his face is being pressed into the bed.
“Fucking smart cunt,” Chris spits, tightening his grip in Felix’s hair and pressing down on his upper back to arch it. His ass is right up in the air and Chris thrusts straight back in and shows no mercy. Felix whimpers as he is driven into overstimulation as he is used for Chris’ own pleasure, nails digging into his hips.
He feels Chris' hips stutter out of rhythm a few times and he knows this is the end – not just the sex, but every twisted thing that they forged between themselves – or maybe it's just the post-nut-clarity hitting.
Felix whines when Chris rakes six bright red lines down his back as he bites back a groan when he unloads into the condom.
“Ngh, fuck,” Chris groans, thighs shaking like he just shot his entire lifeforce out. He sits back, falling heavy on his ass, and takes the condom off. He ties it and tosses it into the bin on the other side of the room. Felix refrains from saying ‘ nice throw ’ because Chris doesn't deserve even the tiniest ego boost from him.
Felix sits himself up, still breathing heavy, and lazily toes where he left his clothes. He definitely does not have the energy to get back to his hotel room, but like hell he's going to stay overnight with Chris.
“Fuck the soul outta ya, huh?” Chris murmurs from where he's lying back on the bed, cock all wet and softening on his hip.
“Soul still very much intact, thanks,” he quips in reply. “Ass hole? That's a different question.”
Chris laughs softly behind him.
“If you win tomorrow, I'll maybe let you fuck me,” Chris says, voice all hazy like he's about to fall asleep.
“Gross,” Felix chortles sarcastically. Something soft bounces off his head. He looks down to see a pair of balled up socks and Chris' arm still lazily hanging in the air.
“See you tomorrow, I guess.”
“Fuck you tomorrow.”
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
Felix doesn’t arrive back at the hotel room until long after midnight. Pinch is strewn across his own bed, ass up, arms all twisted around him. He squints when Felix turns on the bedside lamp to find his pyjamas. It was not fun trying to get back in nothing but a stolen windbreaker and a damp towel.
“Where the—” Pinch groans.
“Not a fucking word,” Felix warns. “Not a fucking word.”
Pinch rolls over and laughs to himself sleepily before knocking straight out, much to Felix’s relief. He checks himself in the bathroom mirror and shudders. He looks like he’s had the shit kicked out of him by a very pissed off roo, the kind that kick straight for the belly.
“Fuckin’ hell…”
There is no way he is covering all of this up for tomorrow. He could say he got caught in a fight – and that wouldn’t exactly be lying. He limps over to the hotel bed and face plants, contact with the pillow konks him out in a second.
🏊♂️🌅🏊♂️
The atmosphere at nationals is wildly different from the state carnivals. It’s more tense with far less friendly banter being liberally thrown around. It’s not awfully serious, but people do cheer when the swimmers near the end of their race.
Pinch and Mei are up ahead of Felix, rounding the corner of the big stairwell that leads up to the stands. Felix occupies his mind by looking all the way over to his right to the end of the pool where the diving towers are. They’re flanked by blocky artworks of divers and the MSAC logo. It does nothing to ease his anxiety.
He has to wait quite a while for the backstroke races. But he’s always liked that they’re never first nor last, always in the middle, where no one really remembers anything. He sits quietly and cheers Mei and Pinch on when he sees them down at the starting line. Though his gaze constantly drifts through the crowd, unconsciously searching.
“He’s over there.”
The sudden voice in Felix’s ear makes him jump.
“Fucking Christ, Mei. A little warning next time,” Felix grumbles.
“I’ve been sitting here for five minutes, dumb fuck. You’re the one who’s off in their own world fantasising about sucking Chris Bang’s dick,” Mei retorts.
“Not so loud!” Felix hisses, giving her a little shove. “That’s fucking gross.” His gaze zeroes in on where Mei pointed out earlier and lo and behold, there he is, in all his scum sucking glory, Chris Bang. His hair is damp already, likely from the freestyle race earlier in the day. He’s bantering amongst friends with his wide smile and cheeky squint. “Did Pinch fuckin’ dob on me?”
Mei sighs heavily beside him when his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. He knows she wants to whack him upside the head.
“Pinch would dob on you for a Maccas 50 cent cone, Felix.”
“Would not!” Pinch shouts from the end of the row. “Only if it had a flake in it,” he murmurs under his breath petulantly as he sits himself down.
Felix sighs, deflating in his seat. It’s almost time for him to get down to the marshalling room. He’s nervous, to say the least, shaking a little every time he remembers he has to race soon and see Chris Bang’s smug gloating face. He’s probably told all his friends about last night to brag, unless they’re the pussy-footed type that get grossed out by dudes hate-fucking each other.
He rubs his face, hard enough for phosphenes to swirl behind his eyelids, and heads off to the marshalling room.
“Go show ‘im what you’re made of, Felix,” Pinch calls out behind him. Felix can’t help but roll his eyes.
The world swirls around him as he takes the stairs down to the marshalling room, past the dozens of swimmers that are already damp and reeking of chlorine or are reading the lane assignments plastered over the plain white walls.
Lane 4, LEE Felix.
It’s loud in the marshalling room, voices echoing off the concrete and glass like no tomorrow. He sits in the row of chairs, climbing over the backs of the row in front of him every time a new race is called out. He keeps his eyes down and tries to breathe deeply, even though the atmosphere of the room is almost too thick for his own lungs.
No sign of Chris Bang yet.
They call for the race he’s in and he steps up with the other guys to walk out to the starting platform. Behind him, there’s a kerfuffle, and a muffled sorry, sorry I’m late . Felix turns back to glimpse at the latecomer and his entire body tenses like ice was just poured down his back. His posture stiffens and he swears he can feel goosebumps prickle up his arms.
They walk up to their lanes and Felix ditches his windbreaker at the last second, holding his breath as he hears the spectators hush for a single moment when they notice the red and purple marks running up and down his torso. He gulps uneasily and it almost feels like he’s looking out into the world from a fishbowl.
God, he wants to puke.
He spares a glance to his left and sees Chris nod to him. There’s nothing behind it, no banter, nothing cheeky, just a genuine nod of acknowledgement.
See you at the finish line .
His fellow racers jump into the pool and position themselves against the kick-off wall and the ref calls for him to do the same.
It’s only the heats , he reminds himself.
He takes a deep breath, and dives in.